


A Matter of Change

by madame_le_maire



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Fluff, Haircuts, M/M, Post-Seine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 04:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1926993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_le_maire/pseuds/madame_le_maire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Javert is very attached to his hair. When a new case calls for a change in his appearance, Valjean offers to help out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vejiicakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vejiicakes/gifts).



> Written as a treat for vejiicakes, who prompted Valjean cutting Javert's hair. Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Thank you to voksen for advice and buttpats :)

“… and so, we shall require six men for the surveillance of the count’s mansion,” Chabouillet concluded, stopping in his pacing and leaning against his desk once more. The case was very complex and had started wearing on his nerves. Opposite of him, Javert was attentive, though his shift had already ended. Chabouillet allowed himself a quick glance at the clock, then continued.

“You will have the lead - “ Javert bowed, “As for the others, I particularly recommend Arnaud, but otherwise I trust your judgment," Chabouillet ended his speech with a small smile. 

Javert inclined his head once more. “I will not disappoint you, Monsieur," he said, turning to leave. 

Chabouillet coughed. “Another word, Javert. Concerning… your appearance.”

“My appearance, Monsieur?”

Chabouillet sighed. “To keep it short… your hair. I have to ask you to cut it.”

Javert’s eyes widened in surprise, but he seemed to compose himself quickly, only his tightly pressed lips betraying his thoughts. After a moment, he chose to speak them aloud:

“Excuse me, but… is this truly necessary?”

“It is too conspicuous. You will not spend an hour at your post without all the local rogues not only knowing that you are a member of the police, but also which one precisely. You are somewhat well-known among these parts, to state the obvious.”

Upon the sight of Javert’s unhappy expression Chabouillet let his voice soften. 

“It’s only for this case, Javert. And then you can grow it back as long as you wish.”

Still the subdued look did not leave Javert, even as he made for the door. Once alone, Chabouillet allowed himself a sigh and mentally prepared himself for a long evening at his desk. 

***

Valjean listened to Javert’s tale of his new assignment with interest as he washed and sorted the vegetables he had picked in the garden that day. He had finished with the carrots and moved onto the zucchinis, when a strange pause in the middle of a sentence made him look up. 

Opposite of him, Javert had indeed gone quiet, mouth twisted unhappily as he stared down onto the table. 

“Now, what is the matter? They did not ask you to partake in the count’s social affairs as a part of your disguise, surely?” he asked with a soft smile.

“No, no, it is just…” Javert sighed heavily and murmured something under his breath.

Valjean shook his head. “I’m sorry, I did not - “

“My hair," Javert repeated louder, scowling, “It needs to go.”

“Ah.” Valjean considered what Javert had just said. He looked first at the defeated slouch of Javert's shoulders, then at his carefully-tied hair, dark and streaked with silvery strands, and couldn't quite keep back a shiver of regret.

***

Later, after the evening meal, they took to the garden. Sitting on a bench amid the peaceful twilight, Valjean felt Javert’s head come to rest on his shoulder, a gesture of uncharacteristic vulnerability brought on by a long day of work. He raised his hand to stroke through Javert’s hair and suddenly an idea formed in his mind.

“I could cut it for you if you wish," he said quietly. Javert raised his head to stare at him. Valjean felt himself grow flustered and looked away quickly.

“It is only that, ah, it would be such a hassle searching for a barber. And," he added with a smile, “I used to be quite good at tending to Cosette’s hair.”

He heard Javert snort at that, yet he lowered his head back onto Valjean’s shoulder and after a while he said quietly, “It will make it bearable, I think… thank you.”

***

And so, the next day saw them in the middle of the kitchen, the table pushed aside to provide more space. Javert was sitting in a chair which was standing on an old sheet, another one thrown over his body as a precaution. Valjean had rolled up his sleeves and was staring at Javert’s hair in sudden uncertainty, scissors in hand.

“Well?” Javert had been high-strung the whole morning, though trying to hide it, and even now there was an echo of nervousness in his voice. 

“I am thinking about how to proceed," Valjean said, “Perhaps… I shall cut the bulk of it in a go and then continue from there?”

“Do what you must," Javert said with a heavy sigh.

Valjean gathered the strands in one hand - they were soft as ever and he permitted himself another touch before positioning the scissors. This might have been easier with the ribbon still in place, yet he still managed to cut through the hair, albeit not perfectly straight. Javert exhaled as the last strand was severed, the tension in his shoulders lessening slightly. Valjean looked down at his hand full of hair, then, opening his fingers, watched them fall onto the sheet. With a small sigh of his own, he turned back to Javert. 

“Now on to the rest of it," he murmured. The tension returned to Javert’s shoulders almost instantly.

Pausing, Valjean surveyed his work. The ends were uneven and curled too far down Javert’s neck still. He reached for the comb lying nearby and dipped it into the small water basin next to it. Javert all but jumped at the feeling of cold water dribbling down his neck, but collected himself swiftly.

Valjean set to work on his nape. In spite of the wetness, the strands were still awkward to cut, seemingly curling away from the scissors at every attempt. Still, he managed to get the hair properly short with some effort. 

He was evening out the ends when the side of the scissors glided along the part of Javert’s neck where his vein fluttered under his skin. Javert stiffened. Looking past his shoulder, Valjean could see his fingers curled into a fist on his thigh. 

He stopped for a moment, listening to Javert’s overly composed breaths. Then he brushed a few stray strands from his skin and bend down to press his lips right to the side of his neck.

Javert exhaled sharply, with a vulnerable edge to the sound. He seemed to fall in on himself, shoulders sagging and head bowed. They stayed like that for a moment, Valjean drinking in his shaky breaths, the softness of his skin. When Valjean let his hand glide down his arm, Javert straightened again.

“Let us finish this," he said, voice rough.

***

Valjean spent some more time working on Javert’s hair - it proved more difficult than he had thought, since he had little experience with short cuts, yet after a while he had arrived at a more or less satisfying result.

After having cleared the traces of their endeavour from the kitchen, they stood in front of the mirror, contemplating Javert’s new appearance. 

Valjean had not expected it, but the cut… suited him, strangely enough. It called attention to his angular features and at the same time made him look perhaps a little bit younger. 

Javert stared at his reflection, brows drawn. Then he said, with resignation: 

“I do not look myself.”

“Was that not the idea behind it?” Valjean asked, smiling a little. Then, when Javert only bowed his head in answer, he forcibly turned him away from the mirror and towards himself.

“You still look like yourself to me," he said quietly and stretched to kiss Javert’s tightly-pressed lips softly. As he felt them go pliant under his touch and respond, he smiled against his mouth and raised his hands to savour the novel feeling of short strands sliding through his fingers.


End file.
